Not So Secret Garden

Bathroom greenhouse

Today's post is about "'leadership'". Just kidding, it's actually about one of our family group projects, gardening. Our gardening exploits so far this spring have come in a variety of phases, from Dad creating herb planters out old cement pipes; to my sister planting the garden with plants Mom got from the hardware store, to my other sister helping me plant some seeds. So far everyone has found some time to play in the dirt.

Cement her planter

The initial surge in gardening was partly boredom, partly because one of my sisters is taking plant science, and partly irritation that grocery stores were running out of food. In other words we were skirting the border that leads too crazy prepper territory. You needn't fear though, since I spearheaded half the effort after the initial surge, the momentum has died down.

Proof the seedlings were once happy

The seeds which started out strong growing in our bathroom (it was cold outside, ok), have started to droop and look pathetic as they hold out hope they will be planted soon. However all is not lost, the corn did get put in the ground recently, as did the beans. The reason the rest of the baby plants haven't made it to the garden is that we do not enough space on the current drip line. Hopefully we'll remedy this soon and plant the tender shoots before they kick the bucket. While I hate seeing work go to waste, (yes, I know it's the reoccurring state of my garden) we have tons of seeds we can replant with. Apparently I have this habit of buying more seeds before using the ones I already had.

I have a problem...

Moving on from my charming quirks, my "plan" is to plant what we have and then see where and what else we might be able to grow. The coming weeks will show how the transplanting went an if any more of our baby plants made it to the garden before giving up the ghost.

Light Yoke, Easy Burden

Restless yet at peace. Not sure how it works, but it seems to be one of the themes of 2020. The trick is to find ways to expend energy without overdoing it. Can’t say I’m there yet, but some moments I’m closer.

Reverting to Childhood

Since the extended down time, we've picked up a variety of projects at the old Home Stead. My personal projects have included updating this blog and starting some seeds to plant in the garden. I've even been creating simple videos to encourage a friend to exercise every day! (These quality films basically consist of my voice rattling off exercises with an image of something like the dogs, or my little sister smiling.)

But not all the projects have been individually driven. The seeds have become more of a group project and we've played several board games over the past weeks.  One of my sisters even dug out a 3D Cinderella puzzle I bought for her years ago. Turns out, I'm really, really, extra bad at 3D puzzles. I spent an hour staring at the pieces and put about two together. My sister meanwhile put together the foundation to build the castle on. A couple days after we broke the puzzle out of its hibernation, sister number two sits down and starts putting pieces together during a study break. In those 10 minutes she connected  a bunch of the pieces I had stared at for over an hour!

Suffice to say, between work/school, reading ('cause who doesn't love books), photosynthesizing, and other random activities we've stayed pretty occupied. However, you can never have too much to do when you're sitting at home with time on your hands. Or so my family seems to think, which is why on Wednesday night I came in from a walk to discover that one of my brothers had brought over a giant, awesome, Lego pirate ship. After dinner the box was opened and building commenced. It is interesting, some things have remained the same while other aspects have changed from the Lego pirates of my childhood. The faces, shirts and even the Jolly Roger are different, while the muskets, cutlasses, and rowboat have remained the same. Oddly enough the most disturbing change so far (other than the pastel base) is the palm-tree trunks. I don't know why, I love the fronds, but the trunks are so foreign to what I remember it weirds me out.

I must add, Lego has gotten very kind in recent years and numbers the bags to make finding pieces for each section easier. Perhaps this isn't a new development and I just ignored such fantastic organization as a child; but I absolutely love it as an adult. However, I have a sneaking suspicion that if I had children I might be the devil parent who mixes all the pieces up in a bowl and makes the kids go fishing to find what they need...

Now that you know how we're maintaining shreds of sanity, what toys or games did you enjoy playing with as a kid? Do you have any fun projects in the works? If not I challenge you consider digging through the attic and revisiting some of those old joys. While we can't fully go back to our childhood (to the relief of some) there's nothing wrong with occasionally embracing childlike joy and innocence.

Speaking of children, this blog post (#grownup-homework?) is done which means, I get to go play in the Legos!!!

Communal Paradox

Somedays life throws you for a loop, totally disrupting your grand plans. Case in point, I had planned on doing at least one blog post over the weekend, and then family. It's a funny concept family, you love them and can have some great moments with them, and then there are the days when you need to be there for them, often at the most inconvenient times. And I'm not just talking biological family, but all of those friends who have breached the outer circle of casual acquaintance. In short, I am talking about community.

My second year as an intern at Mount Hermon we (my fellow interns and I living in the same house) had some differences we had to process through before we could become a semi healthy one. For some this processing brought nothing but pain, for others frustration, while still others were started on a road too healing. Once the upheaval and dust settled, normal routines were established and life settled down into the occasional scuffles and humdrum that accompany the everyday. For me, it was a uniquely intense glimpse of the stages communities go through. The biggest thing I learned was that community can be hell. It's dirty, and messy, and while it brings great joy and comradery and can also inflict deep pain. Community is not an idealistic picture of sunshine and rainbows where everyone gets along all the time. As pleasant as that would be, it's not true to human nature. Community requires hard decisions, but in order for a community, or a relationship to survive, there has to be resolution at some point. Complete conflict will destroy a community as easily as constant compromise.

Perhaps it is the influence of a coworker but I am becoming increasingly convinced that compromise, while one possible outcome of resolution, isn't always the answer. And that is what makes community such a mire. The only way it works is through a mix of standing up for your well being and beliefs while also surrendering your will and well being to serve those around you.

Paradox noun a seemingly absurd or self-contradictory statement or proposition that when investigate or explained may prove to be well founded and true. 

For those who have gotten to experience healthy community you know what a gift it is. Cherish it while you have it. For those who feel it is missing, (which may be higher than normal with everyone being kept home) keep searching, It may be work, but it is also a jewel of great price.

Simple Joys

I HAVE MY OWN WORKSPACE!!!! I didn’t realize how excited this would make me. In the last several weeks I have worked at the kitchen table, my Mom’s writing desk, Dad’s desk, my sister’s art desk, bed, the landing of the staircase an on the floor. (The floor and staircase are a throwback to homeschool days. It’s comfy and you can stretch out....)

My parents must have had enough of my gypsy travels from one room to the next, because today, out of the blue they moved the keyboard and put a folding table for me to work at. This simple act brought me insane amounts of joy. I expressed enthusiasm so exuberantly my high school sister told me, “you sound like Mia from Princess Diaries”. Must admit I wasn’t sure what to do with that, normally that comparison is only made when I’m having a bad, frizzy hair day. But apparently my exuberance matched that of Genoveva’s princess discovering her room at the castle and the walk-in closet mall. To those casting concerned looks my way due to my uncharacteristically cheerful exultation I say, “It’s the little things people!” 

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work and a desk to get back to.

Respiratory Attrition

Anyone who has gotten injured or sick will tell you the road to recovery can be exasperating. After catching bronchitis multiple times this last year I finally find myself inching along toward the much-coveted goal of healthy. The breaking point that launched my yearlong battle with the bronchial tubes probably started with the decision to do a Spartan Sprint sick last June (2019). Note to everyone, if you have a fever and feel like death, stay home. No matter how much you hate heights and don’t want to be left out.

As the summer progressed the coughing waxed and waned depending on chill factor and activity. An overnight camping trip in Capitola, horrendous coughing. Backpacking in Catalina, not too bad until day 3. Training for a tri sprint in the summer in the Central Valley, unhappy lungs. Doing the tri sprint with a used-up inhaler, bad news bears. By September an ultimatum was given to me by my boss, two weeks to make a doctor’s appointment or else she was taking me to a doctor herself. (Apparently even before Covid-19 people coughing in the office all day was annoying.) 

Since that initial doctor visit it’s been an up and down journey of lungs looking and sounding better, only to get unhappy again. Looking better, unhappy, better, unhappy. And then January hit. I don’t know what I had, maybe the flu, maybe something else. About four prescriptions later I was less miserable but down for the 10 count for all practical purposes. Which is when I was temporarily moved into my parents. Months later, I am still here partly due to the lockdown that has swept through California and I find myself champing at the bit, wanting to start working out again. 

 

The weather is lovely, the sun is out, and I don’t want to be cooped up. The problem, whenever I push too much my body protests and I find myself back in bed. So, I’m trying to take it slowly, five sit-ups here, ten squats there, an occasional ¼ - ½ mile walk. Patience is not my virtue and there will definitely be future vents posts about workouts/exercise. Today’s purpose, however, is to set the stage so when these posts come around y’all aren’t all puzzled at the slow nature of my progress. 

For everyone who hasn’t been working out recently and wants to start it up again, good news, you can join me on the less intimidating, snail paced progress train! For those who miss their gyms and normal routines, I feel you bro. Having an active life cut off at the knee’s sucks. It takes some adjustment, but I’m holding out hope that no matter where you’re starting from, progress can still be made. Otherwise, I might as well just go back to bed now.

Church on Thursday

Yesterday was Maunday Thursday, or the day of the Last Supper. Tradition states that Jesus was celebrating Passover with his disciples the night of his arrest (Luke 22:7-15). During this meal Jesus changed the focus of the covenant to point to Himself as longed for Messiah and the sacrificial lamb. It is from this shift that Christians get the concept for communion (Luke 22:17-20).

Many churches hold a special communion service on the Thursday before Easter Sunday, some even go a step further and hold a Seder Supper to give Gentiles an idea of what Jesus and his disciples were celebrating and how much Jesus deviated from the traditional formula. Of course with social distancing dipping bread into a shared cup for communion is a no-no. So we decided as a family to do a nod toward Passover and make a Seder plate. (Apologies on any incorrect terminology that is used.)

May I just say the internet has an overwhelming amount of information on celebrating Passover. In the end I gave up and settled on the simplest explanations and recipes I could find. The next challenge, once the brain melt down subsided, was that we didn't have all the ingredients. Since we couldn't go to the store we had to get, uh creative... Petty sure some of our creativity would have made anyone who is actually Jewish cry, but we tried and had fun attempting...

Imagine it, three sisters cooking in a small space, swerving around one another as they try to make new dishes so the family could have a memorable meal. Music blasts from the table as the parents are busy with phone calls and chores in adjoining rooms. Eventually the oldest sister tired from work goes and rests until the food is finished. In other words a snapshot of community.

The meal itself wasn't quite what I had anticipated. As a kid the few times we attended a Seder supper at Church I remember an "expert" walking us through the entire meal, and while it was a fun experience there was also a seriousness to it. Last night however, serious scholarship or observation was not part of the tone at all.

In all fairness, I did give up on trying to understand the plethora of steps to Passover and settled for sentence long explanations for each item on the plate. After the symbolic explanations we ate and read excerpts from Exodus 13. Throughout the meal there was the usual joking and noise that comes with one of our family dinners. By the time that was done, my youngest sister (who is special needs and eats separately since she can't feed herself) had enough sitting and decided it was time to get down. Of course it is at this point, as I'm finishing my food, that I realized we hadn't gotten to the New Testament portion of the evening. So in the midst of dishes and people coming in and out of the room the familiar words of 1 Cor 11:23-26 were finally read.

Picture perfect food, somber learning in the midst of stillness are wonderful ideals. But reality tends to be a little more noisy and messy. Good food, good conversation, a bit of Scripture, last night on Maunday Thursday, in the midst of all the chaos, there was Church.

When it Rains it Pours

Puddles, clouds, and hope.

Since everyone is housebound and bored, I figured I should dust the old blog off. After a coughing attack by the layer of dust, and repeated reassurances that “I don’t have Corona Virus!” to my family, I sit before you excited and eager to see how many posts I will actually create in the upcoming weeks. (Smart money would be on not a lot.)

The original purpose of this blog was to share my trip to Europe with my family and friends stateside. Almost 10 years later the focus has shifted to everyday life events and random musings that pop into my head. Although the content has changed, the concept that it’s for friends who don’t live near me has remained. As most of us are stuck at home, looking for things to do and human connection, I figured it was time to throw my pennies in the fountain and see what emerges.

Which brings us to todays topic, one we have pondered for a couple weeks now in CA, what the heck is happening? I’m not just talking about being at home on lockdown, I’m talking about the weather. It’s April and it’s raining! Not just a single day of rain, but days and days with thunderstorms and occasional hail. Enough rain to create puddles in the yard! 

Wild poppies are having a great year!

But with the rain comes green. The rye, the flowers, the grass and the weeds. Growing up a farmer’s daughter late rains were always appreciated and dreaded. Rain does not discriminate which plants get life, so while the sweet potatoes benefited from the moisture, so too did my mortal enemies, mustered, pigweed, nightshade, puncture vines, nut grass, crab grass, that stupid succulent, and sting weed. 

Rain sustains life, and right now it makes it easier for everyone to stay home. As the days get warmer, I suspect staying in is going to become harder and harder but that is a worry for tomorrow. (Or Saturday if the weather doesn’t change again.) And who knows, maybe like the rain this lockdown holds some kind of bizarre, hidden, silver lining. As the dog demonstrates daily, one can always hope.